The Legend of Spyro: Mortis' Lament
by The Final Lament
Summary: Malefor lies dead, the world is safe, but alas nothing is ever so simple. A new threat arises, this time from another world, another dimension impinging upon their own. Soon Spyro will be forced to choose a side in a war not his own lest violence consume all he has fought so hard to defend.


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in Spyro, or the background, but the ideas in this story are all mine

* * *

The portal closed. Taking a moment to gather it's senses a humanoid figure rose slowly by steadily to it's feet with the implacability an advancing glacier. A cold steely gaze surveyed the forest from beneath it's hood. Clad in a thin black robe and cloak it should have been freezing in the chill winter air yet there was no misting of breath, as if the creature lacked all but the most basic vestiges of life.

With a heartfelt sigh it let it's mind expand, an alien consciousness seeking minds likely to serve it's cause with only the minimum of prompting before smirking darkly ot itself. Even having been upon this new world for but a minute and it could sense many fertile minds that could be of use. With a vague sense of ceremony it went to take it's first step upon this world before a wave of violence and death assaulted it's mind, the death screams of a almost a thousand thousand sentient creatures, all desperate, all pleading, the wave of pain brought him to his knees.

Seldom had it come across fear as strong as this, this world knew death all too well. And they had a name for it, a vision in the mind's eye. Already the signs were there, nails had begun to lengthen and harden, teeth to sharpen and on it's back the vestigial stubs of wings to grow whilst skin scaled and mottled, flesh warping to conform to the will of the populace. Helpless to the change the creature writhed in desperate agony as its new form was forced upon it.

* * *

It had been almost three long, uneventful days since Cynder had flown off to investigate reports of banditry in the Avalar valley. Now as Spyro looked down upon the once lush forest he couldn't help the tiniest hint of apprehension crawl down his spine as his vision warred with his expectations.

Stretching towards the horizon was a barren wasteland of dry cracked dirtwith just a few diseased, gnarled trees as breaks in an otherwise featureless landscape, a startling contrast with the lush and vibrant forests and peaceful fields he remembered, even the great river that ran through the valley was now little more than a suggestion of dampness to the otherwise dry mud.

A burst of tangerine flame caught his eye on the horizon, not technically a sign of his mate, Malefor's cruel methods having robbed her of the power to breath fire, though whether from the imbuement of his dark power or its desertion none knew or wished to. Descending rapidly Spyro saw his worst fear made flesh once more.

Cynder as he'd first seen her, the long whip like tail, the almost crown of long tapered horns, her scales an almost drab fading purple rather than the deep dark colouring he'd come to love and her wings torn and tattered in places. It was a sight still oft found in the nightmares of those who'd known her reign of a terror, an act that even freeing the world from the madness of Malefor had not been entirely redeemed her in the eyes of some.

She was also busy fighting for her life, hooded figures had her encircled, streams of flame emitting from their hands, but not fire as he breathed it, chains of heat, burning so hot as to be blue with each link clear to the eye as it flickered, binding the dragoness' limbs to the floor.

Cynder just stood there, glaring balefully at the group phalanxed against her, taking the assault without whimper, plea nor growl.

"Surrender." One of the creatures declared, a stream of flame erupting from his hands to strike her head on. Cynder merely withstood it, not even voicing a complaint as her scales darkened under the red heat, the flesh beneath charring enough to be smelt.

Instead she spoke with great calm and detachment, as if unconcerned be the damaged being wreaked upon her body. "Ember, Flame, Blaze, Wildfire, Inferno and Flare, how nice to see you all again. Was your master unable to make it, or have you all simply slipped your leash?"

"He knows. You are merely not considered threat enough to warrant his presence." Another replied, launching his own attack.

"Or you are all considered utterly expendable." Cynder mused, to Spyro's continued confusion, the dragon wrinkling his brow from the air, staying just high enough that they would actually have to look up to see him.

"And what can you do against us? You are chained and bound, and your body is dying, can't you feel it?" The first one inquired again.

"Of course I can feel it. My death is imminent, and then the resulting paradox will wipe out all life for miles." Cynder smiled, still not making sense to the observing dragon."You can't kill me, not without killing yourselves."

"You're bluffing." snapped one of the figures which hadn't spoken yet, though the five had begun to back off, very slowly.

"Shall we find out? Would you risk your immortality so brashly after all you've done to gain it. Live and fight another day children."

There was a moment of indecision, then, as one, the figures caught fire, vanishing in a cloud of acrid smoke.

Cynder smiled. "Cowards every time. Honestly, if they were any more predictable I could use them to measure time. You can land now by the way, some intelligent conversation would be quite appreciated after that."

Spyro did indeed land, though at a cautious distance, not sure what to expect, "C-Cynder? What happened to you?"

The dragoness seemed quite surprised, "You know this form? How troublesome. I do suppose explanations are in order."

Spyro wrinkled his brow, "I don't understand."

"Hence the need for explanation." The dragoness said with a smile, "Firstly, I am not this Cynder you believe me to be. I am... a guest from another realm, upon arriving here I was forced to take this form by the latent magics of this world and my own basic nature."

Spyro appeared to give this due thought, "Cynder this isn't funny."

"I told you, I am not Cynder. You can call me... Mortis. I'm... a type of shapeshifter if you will, except I can't really control what shape I end up as. It's complicated." The dragon explain before closing its eyes, concentrating hard as its wounds healed before Spyro's eyes.

"H-how did you do that without crystals?" He stammered amazed.

"It's a simple matter of isolated temporal dilation resulting in cellular regeneration." It said, surveying the now barren landscape, then back at Spyro, noting the complete lack of comprehension in his eyes. "I used magic." The dragon simplified drastically. "Now young dragon, and I truly apologise for the cliché, but... take me to your leader."

"I don't really have a leader." Spyro said awkwardly, the purple dragon feeling greatly out of his depth – at least with Malefor he'd know which side he was fighting on, this new encounter was senseless as far as he could see.

"Then some sort of authority or decision making group?" The other dragon prodded gently, also put out by events beyond its control, though it at least had an insight into what was going on.

"Well there's the elders and the Warfang Council but to be honest I'm sort of the leader at the moment... at least every seems to expect me to be." The purple dragon gave a world-weary sigh.

"Then it's you I need to talk with." Mortis said simply.

* * *

Author's Note: Finally, after years of dissatisfaction at the utter dross that was my first fanfic, still up on the site for posterity's sake, I've gotten around to rewriting it in a form I can half-way tolerate. I suppose in many ways I need to thank those who've read my various fanfics throughout the years and given me the feedback needed to improve my style. Hopefully this will be the first chapter of many.

A particular thank you is owed to lorephunk who advised me never post below 1000 words a chapter, advise I've tried to live by, if not always successfully.


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